The Humanity Core
by Carodacat
Summary: Where did Wheatley come from? Doug Rattmann finds out firsthand how a Personality Core is made. Oneshot.


**~ For anyone who is reading Rat's Tale, this is like the prequel. I am still working on Rat's Tale, but I'm back on the wheat-and-dairy free diet, so my muse has gone out the window. No cake for me! I was wondering how they made personality cores, and I wrote this. Enjoy. Although I did have a creepy dream after writing this. So _try_ to enjoy. ~**

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><p><span>The Humanity Core<span>

"Hey, Rattmann!"

Doug looked up. One of the scientists, Peter, was standing next to his desk. His cold green eyes narrowed in irritation. "Have you been doodling again?" he said sternly. Doug stared down at his cake drawing. He hadn't eaten anything that morning. "Sorry," he muttered. He disliked Peter, mainly because he wasn't interested in how many subjects died, as long as it was for science.

"You're going to participate in making a core today," Peter announced, ignoring the apology. Doug blinked in surprise. He had worked very little on the personality constructs. The improved expressions of the mark II personality cores had been partly his idea, and he had programmed in the logic core's desire for cake. He had never actually seen how the personality was poured in, though.

He stood up and followed Peter through countless corridors. Henry joined them, and the three of them finally reached a windowless door. Peter inserted his key card, and it slid open. Doug looked around the room. Huge machines were pressed against the walls, and three chairs were propped up against a control panel. Above the control panel, there was a huge window. It reminded Doug of a radio station.

Peter and Henry each grabbed a chair and sat down. Doug stared at the machines. They didn't seem to say anything about how they got the personality. The core's empty shell was lying in a circular pod. Behind the glass, there was a single chair. Wires were protruding from the back and leading into the huge machines. Doug wasn't sure what this meant, but he didn't like it.

"Sit down, Doug!" Henry gestured to the empty chair. Doug walked over, but didn't seat himself yet. "I though Abby was in charge of creating personality cores. Where is she?" he asked. Henry grinned. "Oh, she's not ill. She just thought this one was too _'handsome' _for her to cope with." He chuckled. Doug was about to ask who 'this one' was, when Peter shushed him and asked him to sit down.

He sat in the middle chair just as a door opened behind the glass and three people entered. Two security guards were flanking a man Doug had never seen before. He was extraordinarily tall, and his eyes were quite bulbous, hidden behind a pair of glasses. He had short, brown hair, with a rugged-looking beard. _Abby has a point, _Doug thought to himself.

The man's skin was pale, but it went even paler when he saw the chair. One of the guards closed the door quickly. The other brought out a clipboard. "Name?" he asked tonelessly. The man started. "S-Steve," he stammered. The guard scribbled on the paper. "Age?" he asked. Steve glanced nervously around the room. "Thirty-six," he said, slightly more confident.

"Height?" This time, the guard seemed mildly interested. Steve swallowed, before proudly stating, "6 foot 7." The guards sniggered. They put the clipboard through a gap and gave it to Henry, before advancing on the man.

"Hey, what the bloody hell is going on?" Steve asked, looking slightly anxious. Doug felt like asking the same thing. He whispered to Peter, "What _is _actually going on?" Peter just stared at him. "We're making a personality construct," he stated simply. Doug stared at him, confused.

A cry of shock made him whip round. The two guards had grabbed Steve's arms, and were trying to force him into the chair. Steve was struggling, sweating and shaking, but the guard were too strong. They strapped his arms and legs in, before fastening a strap around his neck. A circular dish was lowered onto his head.

Steve was sobbing now, still trying to break free. Doug felt a stab of pity for him. The poor man was terrified, obviously having no idea what was happening. Peter and Henry began pressing buttons and pulling levers. There was a steady hum as the machines began whirring and beeping. The two security guards walked out of the room, and locked the door behind them. Peter pointed to a glowing yellow button. Doug pressed it, wincing as Steve cried out in pain.

The room was warm from the machinery. "Everything's ready," Henry called, reaching over to press a green switch. He stared at Doug. "You do the honours," he said, pointing to a red lever in the centre of the control panel.

Doug stared at the button for a second. His gaze travelled to Steve, who looked both terrified and in agony. Doug looked at the device on his head, and suddenly realized what was happening.

This man _was _the next personality core.

Doug's mind felt blank with shock. He never imagined Aperture would sink to such a depth, ripping a human's personality from them. He met Steve's gaze. "Help me," Steve mouthed, sweat pouring from his face. Doug stared at the tearful red eyes; the trembling lip; the thin arms trying to break free. He knew he could never do it.

Peter had seen Doug hesitate. He reached over and shoved Doug's hand out of the way. Before Doug could protest, he pulled the lever down.

Steve let out a scream of agony so loud Doug thought his head would explode. Sparks flew from the chair, and the head device vibrated violently. For a second the lights cut out as all the electricity was poured into the machines; as they flickered on again, Steve screamed in pain.

Doug forced himself to look. The man's eyes rolled and his arms went limp. His fingers twitched feebly for a moment. His gasps for breath were abruptly stifled; his chest grew still. A trickle of blood ran from his head and mixed in with a single tear, the last tear.

There was a faint moan from behind Doug. He turned round to see the personality core twitch feebly. Just as the core opened its eye, Doug could hear Steve faintly breathing out. He turned back round. The poor soul looked strangely peaceful in death.

The personality core looked around, but it couldn't see the body its personality had been mercilessly ripped from. Its bright blue gaze flickered, and Doug was certain it looked scared.

It blinked, and stared at them cheerfully. "Hello!" it said. "So, where am I? Who am I?" it asked. Peter smiled triumphantly. "You are Wheatley, an Aperture Science personality construct," he stated.

As Henry and Peter went to remove the dead body, Doug picked up the clipboard. Steve was apparently single, and someone had scrawled _so there's nobody to miss him._ Doug stared at the paper, felling horrified at what he had witnessed.

The core was peering at him. "Is something wrong?" Wheatley asked. Doug considered telling him about what had really happened, how he had been torn from a living, breathing human and shoved into a metal sphere.

He swallowed. "No, everything's fine."


End file.
